


right back

by sunflowerseed



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 02:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18420927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerseed/pseuds/sunflowerseed
Summary: Eames wants to kiss him, will kiss him but he has to speak first. He has to quell the whole situation, bin this idea Arthur’s got ramrod in his head about clean and easy because for Eames Arthur has never been either.





	right back

As Eames sometimes sees it, there is not much in terms of experience that he has not shared with Arthur. From twenty-one and twenty-five to twenty-nine and thirty-three. From aboveboard war-crime to underground dream-crime. From adversaries, to acquaintances, to darling and then back again. There have been endless months of jobs colluded together, dinners eaten, beds shared but then there have also been months on end of radio silence, times throughout the years where Eames wondered whether Arthur was taking a long overdue vacation or if he’d finally bit the bullet and retreated from dreamshare with a podgy savings account and a bloke named Eric or Billy or Cameron even.

Eames is thinking just that when he receives an email from a temporary account linked to an IP address in Uzbekistan. It’s Arthur (of course) asking Eames to assist him on a job in Mezzogiorno in a weeks time. Eames reads the email thrice in an attempt to discern any bit of expression spliced into the text but there’s not a single letter out of place so he packs up his things and he waits.

Arthur is mostly unchanged since Eames saw him last but when he first lays eyes on him he can never help taking a quick inventory (all 4 limbs, all 10 fingers, that sort of thing). His hair is shorter perhaps and he’s foregone his more common formal attire in the Sicilian humidity for a plain white shirt tucked into his trousers. Eames catches sight of an unfamiliar yellow-gold rope chain glinting modestly from where it peaks out at his neck and Arthur’s never very well been one for jewellery but Eames doesn’t find it to be something to focus too hard on. 

They go for dinner at a tiny restaurant down a tiny back alleyway on their own at the end of a long first day. Arthur is impatient already, seemingly worn down from having just come off the tail end of another job (and another before that) so Eames gives him the usual shtick. 

‘ Poor, Arthur.’ He says twirling his pasta on his fork, impolite like. ‘ Million dollar man needs a vacation does he?’ 

And that gets a smile out of him but Eames can tell by the slope of his shoulders that he’d fair well with a month in the Maldives. Arthur rubs aggressively at his eyes. ’ I’m fine. After this one-‘ He says inching around his fish with his fork.‘ I’ll take some time away.’ 

By the end of the week Eames is exhausted from just looking at him and he’s relieved they’ve only just got another week to go. On that last Friday of the month when the sun has gone down Eames leaves Arthur in the abandoned church they’re working out of. He doesn’t even bother trying to cajole him into coming back to the hotel like he had the day prior. 

He realizes he’s missing his totem as he scrounges through his pockets for his keycard. He curses himself and stands there for a moment, contemplating. He calls Arthur but it goes straight to voicemail, so he shuts his door and heads back. He hears Arthur’s voice bouncing off the cement walls before he sees him and Eames stops in his tracks. It’s terrible but he stops and he bends an ear.

‘ Okay…’ Arthur says in hushed tones. ‘ I’m sorry, I don’t know-‘

There’s a long silence and Eames realizes he’s on the phone.

‘ Listen, I’m back in a week, okay? I said I was sorry. We can talk-’ His voice raises a measure. ‘ No, are you kidding me. Because I’m working! This couldn’t have waited? A week. One week?’

Eames is all in and there’s no way he’s sneaking away to miss the end of it.

‘ Forget it, just fucking forget it. I’ll call my sister. She’ll pick the dog up, okay. God, this is terrible timing you get that right?… Well, yeah I know I’ve been out of town the past two months but-‘

He takes a deep breath and Eames is stunned. A lover’s quarrel! He thinks, pressing his hand to his mouth to stop himself gasping aloud. This is simply the juiciest - the only - romantic drama he’s managed to scrounge up on Arthur in the past decade.

‘ I do care. What do you think?! You think I want to be away for this long?’

Eames furrows his brows because if it weren’t for wanting why else? It’s not as if their business requires certain hours. It’s a lie, Eames knows, but why?

‘ Fine, I’ll text you when Jenny can stop by… No, stop, I know… yeah, bye.’ He hangs up and starts muttering angrily to himself.

Suddenly, Eames is caught in a bit of a bind, standing stock still just outside of the backroom where Arthur is tossing things around his desk pissed off. He could attempt to sneak off and risk being found out or he could act as if he’s just walking in and hadn’t heard a thing. While he’s weighing the two options Arthur walks straight into him.

‘ Woah!’ Arthur says once he’s regained his footing. ‘ What the hell are you doing here?’

‘ I left my totem.’ Eames responds as if that explains everything and Arthur rolls his eyes.

‘ And you stuck around to listen to me yell at my boyfriend?’

‘ Sorry.’ He says with a pathetic shrug. ‘ You know I’ve a reputation for not minding my own.’

Arthur shakes his head. ‘ I’m headed back.’ He makes a move to squeeze by him.

‘ Hold on, just let me get my chip. We can go it together.’

Once he’s found it tucked neatly underneath a spreadsheet on his desk he heads out front where Arthur is smoking a cigarette and talking on the phone again. He glances at Eames when he comes out the door and nods his head up the road. 

‘ No,’ He says as they start walking toward the street lamp on the corner. ‘ Yeah, 10-4. Can you just pick up Curie, please… Okay, yeah. Love you too. Bye.’

Eames keeps his mouth shut for a time and resolves to let Arthur finish his cigarette before he says: ‘ I didn’t know you got a dog.’

Arthur flicks the butt into an old paint can left out on the street. ‘ I didn’t get a dog. She was walking aimlessly down the street in Brooklyn last summer. I brought her to the vet, I posted flyers, but nobody claimed her so… anyway, it’s fine my sister loves having her. I only let Jacob watch her in the first place because he wanted commitment and look where it got us.’

‘ Mm.’ Eames says as they come up on the main road. 

There are two taxis parked out front of the bus station and they ride back to the hotel in silence. Eames makes a point of ignoring the bouncing of Arthur’s knee at his side. 

‘ You could’ve told me you had a boyfriend, you know.’ He finally says as they’re waiting for the elevator in the lobby. ‘ I know you hate to admit it but we are friends.’

Arthur looks at him but Eames is watching the number fall. ‘ I know,’ He says as the doors open. ‘ We were only together the past 6 months or so.’ 

Arthur presses both their floors and Eames takes his turn to look.

‘ It wasn’t going to work anyway.’ Arthur says. ‘ Too different.’ He says more quietly. 

An elderly woman comes on from the third floor and smiles sweetly at them.

‘ This is me.’ Arthur says standing up straight and glancing at Eames. ‘ See you in the morning.’

Eames goes back to his room and discards his dirty clothes onto the floor. He turns the shower knob as far right as it will go, towel dries his hair, takes two bottles of travel size amaretto from the mini fridge and turns the television to an Italian soap for white noise. He wonders if Arthur’s showered or if he’d stripped down and retired to bed too exhausted to do anything else. Eames drifts between wakefulness and sleep until he’s startled into consciousness hours later by a dull thudding at his door. He takes his gun from the night stand, slips it into the band of his boxers and looks expectantly through the peep hole.

It’s Arthur standing there, looking placidly down the hall with one of the flat hotel pillows tucked under his arm. Eames pulls out his gun and flings open the locks. Arthur’s glasses are missing an arm and his hair has organized a coup against the gel keeping them tied down (no shower then, Eames thinks). He glances at the gun hanging from Eames’ finger tips and raises his hands in mock capitulation. 

Eames steps back to let him in the door. ‘ Trouble sleeping?’

‘ Something like that.’ He mumbles eyeing the levelled bottles of liqueur next to the bed before slipping silently into the side that is undisturbed. ‘ Don’t let me interrupt your party.’ 

‘ Oh,’ Eames flops back down. ‘ you know it’s never a party unless you’re there.’

Arthur humphs. ‘ We’ve got an early morning.’

‘ Right,’ Eames lies on his side with Arthur’s back facing him. ‘ Sweet dreams then.’

‘ Night.’ Arthur mumbles nuzzling into his pillow.

Eames doesn’t press him any further on the subject. He knows better. But after dinner with the team the next day Eames lures him into the hotel bar for a drink. They manage to cover the past five months they’ve not worked together; incompetent chemists, equatorial climates, brushes with the law, Philippa’s birthday, a seven course meal in a Spanish Michelin star restaurant and a bloodied grey tartan Thome Brown suit. They chat amiably about Curie, who as it turns out is a papillon mix with diabetes and a funny knack for pissing on Arthur’s favourite shoes. Eventually, they settle nicely into an affable silence. Eames watches patiently as Arthur runs his index finger dreamily along the edge of his empty glass until the woman tending bar approaches them and they’re both startled out of their thoughts. 

‘ I think we’re okay. Do you want something?’ Arthur glances at Eames.

‘ No…’ Eames says watching Arthur watching her. ‘ thank you.’

Arthur straightens his jacket and glances at his watch. ‘ It’s late.’ He says looking at Eames.

‘ Right, then we ought to get to bed.’ Eames responds but doesn’t move a finger.

Eames can see the wheels turning in Arthur’s head and he’s got an idea of what they’re working at. ‘ I didn’t tell you about Jacob… because I didn’t want you to think I’d moved onto someone else.’

Eames really hadn’t expected him to say anything more on the subject. ‘ Arthur, we’ve never been-‘

‘ I know,’ Arthur looks at him then. ‘ it’s always been casual between us’ He fixes his gaze back on the mirror above the bar. ‘ but I still didn’t want you to think…’

There are a handful of people in the bar and Eames wishes there were a few more. Maybe then it’d feel less like they were in an empty room. 

He leans an elbow against the bar top and laughs. ‘ I’m flattered you’re tending after my ego, Arthur but it’s nowhere near necessary.’

Arthur sighs and turns to Eames. ‘ I know, that’s the problem.’

Eames falters and fiddles with his straw a moment. ‘ Let’s just head to bed, alright?’

From therein Arthur’s place in Eames’ bed is solidified. He winds up in his room one way or another the rest of the week and loses sense of the imaginary boundary he’d set the first night. He sleeps with his shoulder pressed into Eames’ or with his cold feet searching for warmth between Eames’ own. From the outside it’s almost innocent. Arthur is Eames’ old friend who’s just been broken up with but he’s also one of the only people Eames can trust in dreamshare and he’s the only person Eames has slept with consistently throughout the past decade. 

It’s near backbreaking work for Eames to resist Arthur when he’s right there; his shoulders freckled from the sun and that birthmark on his left hip Eames is so fond of. He has to stop himself from biting into the lean muscle of Arthur’s back in the morning when he’s sprawled out on his stomach reaching out for something that's not there or kissing the drawn pout from his mouth in a deep sleep. It’s sickening and Eames almost kicks Arthur out for his own sanity but instead patiently awaits the end of this job. 

But when it finally arrives - as it turns out - they’re both boarding a flight to Heathrow.

‘ My big sister’s working on the renovations at the American embassy.’

‘ You’ll stay with her I suppose.’ Eames says tossing his clothes haphazardly into his suitcase, knowing full well where this is headed.

Arthur is lying flat on his back across Eames’ unmade bed. He’d packed his things the night prior and carted his bags down to Eames’ room at midnight. ‘ Yeah, I guess.’

Eames looks over at him but Arthur is starring at the ceiling fan with his hands clasped on his stomach. ’ Well, you’re welcome at mine if you like…’

Arthur lifts his head to look at him. ‘ You don’t mind?’

‘ I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, pet.’

Eames’ townhome is a wreck but Arthur doesn’t mention it. They abandon their luggage in the sitting room and retreat to either bathroom for long hot showers before meeting Arthur’s sister at a cozy french restaurant in Kensington. Eames has met her once before when he’d popped round to Arthur’s apartment in New York unannounced to find him and both of his sisters doing some sort of yarn crafting. Arthur’d nearly turned purple when he saw Eames round the corner after Jenny (being Jenny) invited him in, under the pretence of his knowing Arthur. Now, she’s busy back home with Curie while Sarah is even more busy drinking ample amounts of Bordeaux and foisting charcuterie onto her little brother’s plate as she pleases.

‘ Sarah, stop.’ Arthur says into his wine glass half heartedly when she drops the last of the salami onto his plate and Eames has never heard him so demure.

She rolls her eyes in Eames’ direction and flounders a hand at Arthur.

Arthur lets it go but it’s not very long before he’s bumping his foot against Eames’ under the table. ‘ Tired?’ 

‘ Guysss,’ Sarah whines, already the wiser. ‘ don’t leave me.’

Eames smiles emphatically at Arthur and shrugs. 

Arthur shakes his head. ‘ Fine, I’m tired.’

‘ Alright,’ Eames leans back in his seat and bumps their elbows. ‘ we should probably get going then.’

They walk leisurely down Palace Gate where they separate at the tube station. It’s one of London’s finer nights. The weather is mild and there’s a pleasant breeze. Arthur leans bodily into Eames when Sarah’s gone and Eames’ brain starts to work again. ‘ Hey.’ Arthur says slipping his fingers into Eames’.

Eames looks at him and he wonders what this is going to cost him. How many days will it take to come back to his senses once Arthur’s gone. How many jobs will he turn down in favour of moping around town on his own and how many pounds will he pack on eating fry ups and roast dinners in the mean time. ‘ Hi.’ He says back keeping his hold on Arthur’s hand loose to keep himself at least a little bit sane.

He fumbles slightly with his free hand to open his front door and Arthur plops down onto the bench in the foyer to untie his laces. ‘ You shouldn’t do that. You’ll stretch them out.’ He says as Eames wriggles out of his shoes and kneels before Arthur to finger his laces.

‘ Sorry, darling.’ Eames glances at him and his eyes are drawn to his neck. There’s no pale silver glint anymore and Eames’ mind wanders. A gift from Jacob? He rolls his shoulders as if to let it slip away like water from a duck’s back but it lingers.

When he sets the shoes aside with utmost caution Arthur can’t help kissing him and when Arthur comes up for air Eames pulls away. ‘ Let’s get you to bed.’

Arthur holds limply to his hands. ‘ Wait.’

‘What?’ Eames says hoisting him up on his feet.

Arthur leans in close and Eames is preoccupied with the pale pink of his mouth but somehow he’s still being haunted by that phone call. ‘ I do love your sister you know.’ Eames meets Arthur’s gaze. ‘ Has Jacob met her?’

He feels the air thin and he plants his feet for impact.

‘ He hasn’t.’ Arthur responds, suddenly utterly sober. 

It’s unnerving the way he’s looking at him and Eames almost falters. Almost.

‘ Oh, a shame.’ He says waltzing into the living room towards the kitchen. 

‘ Eames.’

Eames turns on his heel and luckily they’re separated by the chesterfield because they’re both already reeling. ‘ What?’

‘ What’s your problem?’

‘ Oh, I don’t know, Arthur. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you've just been broken up with and suddenly you're milling me about like- like your boyfriend, Christ. You’ve gone on the rebound… with me of all bloody people.’

Arthur halts. ‘ I-‘ He fights with his words for a moment and Eames revels in it. ‘ I wasn’t- Why would you- why would you ever even think that? I-’’

‘ Arthur, stop. Stop it.’ Eames smiles flippantly and wonders into the kitchen. ‘ I’m only taking the piss. I’m aware I make a fabulous rebound.’

‘ You’re not joking.’ Arthur says trailing closely behind and Eames wishes he hadn’t let someone close enough to drag the truth out of him in such a manner. ‘ and I’m not trying to spare your feelings, Eames. Fuck! Would you just look at me!’

Eames turns from the fridge empty handed and the door floats shut.

‘ You’re not the rebound.’ He says as if that resolves the whole thing and Eames blinks at him.

‘ Arthur, come off of it already. You don’t sleep in my bed, and take me out with your sister, and hold my hand-‘ He’s blathering and his face is hot, it’s embarrassing. 

‘ Just shut up for a second. I’m trying to say, I- you’re not the rebound…’ His gaze wanders above Eames’ head and if it were anyone else he’d’ve read it as bashful. ‘ You- Jacob was the rebound.’ He walks around the island to stand in front of Eames and lowers his voice like he’s embarrassed to say: ‘ and Matt before him and Daniel and Billy.’ 

Eames stares, still at a loss and Arthur huffs out a sigh of exasperation. 

‘ You're not the rebound.’

‘…Billy.’ Eames says, gobsmacked. He bloody knew it. ‘ You’re kidding.’

‘ Do you think this is funny? Because I don’t.’

‘ Oh, darling.’ Eames touches his elbow but Arthur recoils slightly.

‘ I… we work well together.’ Arthur resolves. ‘ And you’re my friend. I just…’ He looks at Eames then and something inside the both of them is thrumming with anticipation. ‘ It was clean cut and I didn’t want to mess it all up. Because, because everything was so good, right? Everything with us is so good. So I thought, you know, get a boyfriend and get over it… but clearly it hasn’t worked out yet. And it’s not easy anymore because we’re fighting about you being my rebound. Which you aren’t.’

Eames wants to kiss him, will kiss him but he has to speak first. He has to quell the whole situation, bin this idea Arthur’s got ramrod in his head about clean and easy because for Eames Arthur has never been either. 

‘ See,’ Eames says leaning back on his heels to create space for his words. ‘ the thing is, Arthur. I’ve had to endure a great deal to keep on as we have been. It’s- it’s been agony but I’d never expect any less from someone so- someone so bloody… You drive me mad but… I’ve never once wanted for anything easy when it came to you. I understand you’ve somehow got the long end of the stick and decided for the both of us what’s best but I’m willing to endure if I have to. Do you understand?’

Arthur licks his lips and nods.

Eames resists for a moment to get in another bit edgewise. ‘ God, you’ve always got to be this difficult haven’t you? Pretty people always are the most complicated aren’t they?’

‘ I’m sorry.’ Arthur mumbles leaning in close. 

Eames sighs but Arthur is very rarely found even murmuring apologies so he takes that as a victory. He cups Arthur's face in his hands and watches as his eyes flutter shut. He watches him intently for a moment before Arthur blinks and glances between Eames’ eyes expectantly like a child waiting to be scolded. ‘ I’m sorry.’ He says more loudly turning his cheek into Eames’ palm. ‘ Are you listening to me?’

Eames swipes his thumb across the freckle on Arthur’s chin. ‘ Mhm.’

Arthur sighs and hugs him closer; cheek to cheek. When Eames pulls his face around to his own it’s with a decade of quiet build up and what must be months of coy foreplay. Arthur is like putty left out in the sun and his whole body sags forward into him. Regardless, he is very much so always Arthur; handsy and fortuitously rough. Since that first job with Mal when Arthur kissed Eames as if the only air left on earth was in his mouth and Eames settled gently onto his knees in a bathroom stall while their company fussed about overly salted escargot. Now, he lifts one hand to fist in Eames’ hair and he pulls him away from the fridge in a manner that Eames might describe as gentle. ‘ Do you know how much I think about you?’

Eames backs him the short distance into the counter and pins him there. ‘ I haven’t a clue.’

Arthur rolls his eyes. ‘ That’s a rhetorical question but-‘ Eames cuts him off and imagines the meeting of mouths could translate every emotion; happy and sad and longing. He thumbs open Arthur’s trousers and pushes them down his thighs. He ghosts his mouth across Arthur’s cock on the way down and Arthur sighs. ‘ too much.’


End file.
